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     You sighed as you stared out into the vast, lonely sea. The sun was setting, making the sky and sea a pool of orange light. The salty wind whipped at your hair and dress as you stood on the balcony of your room. You looked up as you heard the sound of seagulls above you. Two seagulls were flying over you, heading towards the water. Tears pricked in your eyes. You wished you were like them; free, and with the one you love. But you had neither of those. Your Love was who knows where in the sea, for all you knew he could be dead. And your freedom, well, that was taken away by your older sister, Gabriella. Oh, how you hated that name. That name belonged to the person who caused all of this heartache and loneliness.

     You see, when you were all younger, your sister and Lover, Francis was his name, were fiancée’s. This, of course, was planned by each other’s parents. Since your sister was the heiress to the throne of England, and Francis was the heir to the throne of France. But as you all started to grow up, Francis realized he didn’t love Gabriella.

     He loved you.

     And you loved him.

     You had both realized this at the age of 15 and 17. Him, 17, you, 15.

     He had fallen in love with how your (h/l), (h/c) hair flowed in the wind, how your (e/c) eyes sparkled in the moonlight, how your beautifully soft skin was smooth and with no flaw. He loved how you walked, your laugh, your style, but best of all, your personality. You were always happy, always smiling, always thoughtful, always kind, and always used your manners, even to the servants. He always thought it was funny how at every dinner, you would say thank you to whichever servant placed your food in front of you, and then everyone would turn and give you weird looks. But you paid no attention to them. And he loved you for that.

     You had fallen in love with how he tied his blonde, shoulder length hair up in a messy pony tail. How his blue eyes were as clear as the noon day sky. How his perfectly toned skin shined in the sunlight. You loved his French accent, his strange yet contagious laugh, but most of all, how he always put others first. Whenever you were sick, he was always there for you. If you got hurt, he would be there to comfort you. And you loved him for that.

     But, almost two years ago, when you were 16, everything changed. Your mother had suddenly fallen ill, and died soon after. Your sister, being the heiress, became the Queen of England. Since she was 18, and so was Francis, she and Francis’s parents agreed to have them married.

     But Francis didn’t want that.

     He didn’t want to marry her.

     He wanted to marry you.

     It had broken both of your hearts, and you recall the day before the wedding was supposed to take place, you had both cried to sleep in each other’s arms.

     ~Fashback~

     “Shhh, _____. Everyzhing will be okay…” Francis said, his French accented voice smooth. You were both on your bed; you curled up in Francis’ lap. One hand held your head close to his chest, the other wrapped tightly around your waist. His chin was resting on top of your head as a single tear slid down his cheek. You quietly sobbed as you clutched onto his wrinkled shirt.

     You shook your head, your face still buried into his chest. “No, it won’t be. You’ll marry Gabriella, and…” The thought of him having children with her was unbearable for you. Your body wracked harder as you tried to keep your sobs quiet, not wanting to wake your sister up in the next room.

     More tears fell down Francis’ cheeks. “I’m so sorry, chérie… I wish I could make zhings different…” He said, his voice cracking.

     “It’s not your fault…” You said in between sobs.

     You both just sat there in silence as your sobs grew quieter and quieter. You felt Francis stiffen, and then heard him take a deep inhale of air.

     “What would you do?... if I married Gabriella?” He said, his voice shaky, afraid of the answer.

     You thought for a moment. “…I would kill myself.” Your voice was flat and dull.

     Francis immediately pulled you away from him, holding you at arm length by your shoulders. “Don’t you ever, ever, ‘urt yourself. If you killed yourself, I might as well die with you. Please, don’t say such zhings…” He leaned in until his forehead touched yours, his watery blue eyes gazing into yours. You just blinked back.

     “Promise me?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

     “Promise you what?” You asked, confused.

     “Zhat you’ll wait for me.” He said.

     You became more confused. “What do you mean?”

     “I’m going to run away. I’ll become a pirate. In two years, I will come back for you. Promise me, you’ll wait.” A small smile graced his lips, a lonely tear falling down his cheek. Your eyes widened.

     “Are you sure? Can’t you just take me with you now?” You asked, scared of being alone for so long.

     He shook his head. “No, eet’s too dangerous. Once I get zhe hang of zhings, I will come back for you.”

     You at first frowned, but then slowly smiled a small smile. “Then yes. I will wait for you.”

     He smiled in relief, and then leaned in. His lips slowly came in contact with yours, as if he was trying to savor every moment. You quickly melted into the kiss, both of your lips slowly moving in sync; each other’s love pouring into it. Francis was the first to break away.

     “Sleep.” He said, his blue eyes gazing lovingly into yours. “You’ll need eet.”

     “But, when are you leaving?” You asked.

     “Morning.” He shortly replied.

     Your eyes widened in shock. “What?! Why? Do you have to leave so soon?” You asked.

     His eyes turned sad. “Tomorrow at noon ees when zhe wedding ees supposed to take place. I need to be long gone by zhen. Sleep now, while I am with you. But tomorrow I will be gone.” You could tell he was trying hard to stay strong. This was just has hard for him as it was for you. Another tear slid down your cheek.

     Francis quickly wiped it away. “Shh, don’t cry, please…” He said, gently laying both of his hands on your cheeks. “Smile for me, please? I want to remember you with a smile…” He said, smiling his toothy smile. You couldn’t help but give in to his request; his smile was too darn cute.

     His smile grew wider. “Zhere… zhat’s zhe _____ I fell in love with.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before lying down, pulling you down with him. You snuggled closer to him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the soft thumping of his heart.

     “Goodnight, _____. Je t'aime.”

     “Goodnight, Francis… I love you, too…”

     And that was the last time you ever saw him. The last time you ever heard him. The last time he kissed you. The last time you cuddled.

     The last time.

     The next morning, Francis was gone. Though it was a mystery to you how he woke up before everyone else, since he was such a deep sleeper.

     As noon slowly approached, everyone was scrabbling around, trying to make everything perfect. Francis was supposed to arrive at 11:00, but when 11:00 came around, he didn’t show. Nor did he for 11:15. Nor 11:30. Not even 11:45. Your sister had grown worried, thinking that someone might had murdered or captured him during the night. But you knew none of it was true.

     Finally, noon came. Everyone was there; your relatives, Francis’s family and his extended family, close family friends, acquaintances, everybody. Your sister stood behind the scenes, totally freaking out. Once it became 12:30, everybody was shifting in their seats, talking amongst their selves. You, though, just stood there. Your face was blank, your expression was cool. And it didn’t take long for your sister to notice.

     “_____, aren’t you worried?” She had asked. You snapped out of your thoughts and turned to face her.

     “Ah… I don’t know. Maybe he’s late?” You said absentmindly.

     “Well, I know that.” She snapped. “Really, _____, you need to pay more attention to things. Did he act weird at all yesterday…?” She asked. She had noticed how he was spending more and more time with you, and less with her. She was also saw you two walking in the garden one day, fingers entwined. Yes, she was suspicious. And she also had a feeling his disappearance had something to do with you.

     You shook your head, getting a little nervous. “N-no, not at all.”

     Your sister narrowed her eyes at you. “Are you sure?” She asked.

     “Y-yes.”

     She nodded, but still wasn’t convinced.

     ~~~~~~

     Later that day, when Francis never showed, she began to blame people. And guess who the first person she blamed was?

     You.

     “You loved him, didn’t you?! And he loved you! Don’t try to deny it, _____. I’ve seen you both when you’re alone. I’ve noticed how he’s happier when he’s with you, how he spends more time with you. What did you do to him?!” She screamed. You flinched back, but held your ground. Your father was in the background, trying to comfort your sister. But to no avail.

     “I-I didn’t do anything. I swear, I have no idea..” You replied.

     “Don’t lie to me.” She spat. “I know it’s your fault. All of this is.” She paused. “Guards! Take her to her room, and bolt it shut.” She turned her gaze back to you. (e/c) eyes glared into (e/c). “You shall never know another human being again.” Both your and your father’s eyes grew wide. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

     “Gabriella, please-“ Your father was quickly cut off by your fuming sister.

     “Don’t even try, old man. I am the Queen now. You can’t stop me.” She said, anger written in every word. Your father, knowing that she was right, stepped back and lowered his head in shame.

     “Guards.” Your sister demanded. You were quickly grabbed by two guards, one on each arm.

     “No, no, no, no, no, no, NO! Don’t do this to me!” You struggled in the guards’ grip, wriggling around and trying to kick them through their armor. “No! Gabriella! Father! No! Someone, please, help me! It wasn’t my fault!” You screamed down the empty halls. “It wasn’t my fault…”

     Your beautiful white dress was now torn, and you hung limply in the guards hold.

     “If only I hadn’t promised to wait for him, I would already be dead…” You said, your voice cracking. The two guards that were carrying you glanced at each other, pity written all over their faces. They both nodded in silent agreement to not tell the Queen anything. They carefully dragged you up to the top room of the castle. Once they got there, they opened the door and dragged you inside. Gently placing you on the bed, they both turned to leave. But one of the guards grabbed the other’s arm. Once again, no words needed to be exchanged to know what the other was thinking. They turned around, took their helmets off, and kneeled down before the bed you were currently lying on.

     “We’re sorry, Princess…” They both muttered in unison. You slowly lifted yourself up in a sitting position, and looked down at them.

     “It’s not your fault…” You replied, your sentence trailing off. They just nodded, stood up, and left, locking the door behind them.

     And that’s how your freedom was taken away. You had lived in this room ever since, and the only person you ever communicated with was the one servant who attended to your room and gave you your meals. Your room was small, with just a simple bed, desk, wardrobe, nightstand, and chair. The walls of your room were stone. But, your favourite part of the room? Your balcony.

     You always wondered why your sister gave you a room with a balcony. You could easily just jump to your death if you wanted to. Or maybe she just didn’t care. You had no clue; you hadn’t seen or heard from her in the past two years.

     You glanced over the edge of the balcony. You were no longer afraid of heights, having been up so high for so long. As your thoughts wandered back to Francis, a lonely tear fell down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away. He’ll be back soon, you told yourself. You immediately scoffed at yourself. Yeah right. This isn’t a fairy tale.

     You turned around as you heard your bedroom door open.

     “Good day, _____. Dinner is here.” Your ever so faithful servant, Lizzy, said, as she walked in with a platter of food. She gently placed it down on your desk, and turned to face you.

     “I’m not hungry.” Was all you said, not even turning to face her.

     Lizzy sighed. “Come on, _____. You need to eat. Your Prince Charming will come for you someday, and tell how thin you are.” You heard her footsteps grow louder as she came closer to you. She stood in front of you, and cupped your cheeks with her hands. Her shorter form had to stand on its tiptoes to get a good view of your face.

     “For goodness sakes, child. Your cheeks are hollow.” She said, worry and stubbornness plastered on her face. You just giggled. You though t it was adorable how she was two years younger than you, yet called you ‘child.’

     “Alright, Lizzy. What’s for dinner today?” You asked, turning around and heading for the desk where the food was waiting.

     “Tea, bread, and cheese. Sorry for it being so bland. The Queen ordered me to give this to you.”

     You shook your head. “No, it’s fine. At least it tastes good.” You said, taking a bite of the bread and cheese. “Thank you, Lizzy.” You smiled at her, and she smiled back.

     “Of course, _____.” She then quickly glanced at the door, and then leaned down closer to your ear. “I’ll bring that book you requested tomorrow morning, alright?” She said. You giggled.

     “That’s fine, Lizzy. You may go now.” You said, still smiling. She was probably the only person that could ever get you to smile. Besides Francis, of course.

     She grinned at you. “Okay. I will see you tomorrow morning.” She said, heading for the door. You watched as she left, and then heard the door close with a click. Sighing, you went back to your dinner.

     ~~~~~~

   After you were done with dinner, you hauled your chair out to the balcony. Then you went back inside and grabbed your sketch pad and pencil. Drawing was one of the things you had started doing after your sister locked you up here. Since you had so much time, most of it was spent reading, writing, drawing, or just thinking. You sat down in your chair, crossed your legs, and set your sketch pad down. You then began drawing the sea and the sky, along with the setting sun, and boats and buildings. You had drawn the same picture many times, but with every time, you got better.

     Once you were done, you grabbed your water color paints, and started painting. Sometimes you used gloomy colors; others, bright. It mostly depended on your mood. This time, though, you used warm colors. A small smile graced your lips as you began to paint. Every once in a while, you glanced up from your painting to look at the scene before you. As you looked up again, you saw something unusual; a ship. You could tell it wasn’t a fishing boat, mainly because it was too big to be one. Nor was it a British ship; wasn’t fancy enough. As it got closer, you noticed a flag. A French flag. The blue, white, and red flag had a black crossbones and skull on it. A French pirate ship? Now, that was strange. Until you connected two with two.

     Francis was French. He said he would become a pirate, and come back and get you in two years. Tomorrow would be exactly two years since he left. Was that Francis’s ship? Your heart started racing. He’s coming back for you. You’ll be free again, and with the one you love- You quickly shook your head at the idea. No, it can’t be. It’s such a small chance of him being alive in the first place.

     You deeply sighed, and just went back to your painting, but this time drawing and painting the ship into it. A girl could dream…